Pioneering court offers hope to addict mothers

More than a million children in Britain come from homes where drink or drug use is out of control. The law has been of little help to them - until now. The Observer has had unique access to a radical project that brings together courts, the voluntary sector and government to concentrate on such families - and bring help when it is most needed

"You can take this child away from me, but I'll have a baby every year until you let me keep one," a mother shouted recently at a district judge, Nicholas Crichton, as she stormed out of his courtroom. The threat was serious, as Crichton knew only too well - he is the only full-time judge at the specialist family court and it is his job to grant local authority requests to take children into care, and to do so as often as is necessary.

"It is perfectly usual in the Inner London Family Proceedings court to remove the fourth, fifth and sixth children from their mothers," he said. "Those women become pregnant again and again, with each child following their sibling into the care of social services. It's not unheard of for me to remove the eighth or the 10th child from their parents. In one case, I removed the 14th. I have a colleague who has removed the 15th."

Such numbers might stretch the credulity of those unfamiliar with the world in which the family courts operate, but Crichton finds them grindingly repetitive. In his 15 years at the helm of the central London court, these scenarios have become depressingly familiar. As has their explanation.

"These multiple cases of removal are usually the result of a mother with a drink or a drug problem, or both," he said. According to government-funded research, 70% of children come before the family proceedings courts because their parent - almost always a lone mother, herself damaged by a traumatic childhood - has a serious problem with drugs or alcohol, or both. Crichton, however, puts the figure in his courtroom higher, at 80% or 90%.

More than one million children in the UK are affected by problem drinking by a parent. Between 250,000 and 350,000 have a parent with a serious drug problem. These children are born with bleak futures: at risk of physical and emotional neglect and abuse, disproportionately likely to have emotional and behavioural difficulties. Unlikely to achieve educationally and highly likely to slip into addiction themselves, they frequently set the whole cycle in motion again when they become parents themselves.

Crichton believes families with drug and alcohol addictions have problems so complex that courts in England and Wales are unable to give them the help they need. "Courts simply take the children away, tell mothers to find a treatment centre and come back when they have been rehabilitated," he said. "This doesn't work because these parents don't have just an addiction problem, they have a whole raft of issues, from housing to domestic violence, learning disabilities and mental health, and so on.

"It is very difficult for these women to get themselves sufficiently organised to find a detox facility. Those with the determination frequently find there is a three-month waiting list and sink back into their old ways. The tiny percentage who stick with it often find the services disjointed and lack a focus on their specific needs. I became convinced that there had to be a better way."

Crichton set himself the task of finding the solution. After meeting a judge from the drug dependency court in San Jose, California, he hit upon what he believed was the answer: the Family Drug and Alcohol Court, an entirely new court system dealing solely with families suffering addiction problems.

For six years, Crichton lobbied to realise his vision. Last year he finally achieved an astonishing coup: not only did the former lord chancellor, Lord Falconer, throw his support behind the scheme but Crichton coaxed £1.6m from three government departments - the Ministry of Justice, the Department for Children, Schools and Families, and the Home Office.

He also persuaded three inner-London boroughs to part-fund and collaborate in the three-year pilot project. Next week a representative from the Department of Health will arrive to observe the court. Crichton hopes the department will agree to fund the project after its pilot period is over.

Crichton also brought about a unique collaboration between the voluntary and public sectors, in the shape of a coming together of the children's charity Coram and the Tavistock and Portman NHS foundation trust. Together, these agencies run the court.

"This is an astonishingly different way to approach these problems and what's exciting is that it is working," said Crichton. "It's totally unheard of to get all these government departments and agencies to work together. But it's the only way that we are going to properly help these families. These drug and alcohol issues are embedded across the criminal justice system, the family justice system, the nation's health and the wellbeing of its children. Getting these government departments to come together in recognition of that is extraordinary and so incredibly hopeful."

It was in January 2008 that the new court heard its first case. Since then it has been operating quietly, tucked away from public eyes in the family proceedings court in Wells Street, central London. Last month the Observer became the first newspaper to be given full access. We attended cases and met families going through the new system, mostly single mothers who have had, or are on the verge of having, their children permanently removed.

The concept of the Family Drug and Alcohol Court is deceptively simple, yet culturally ground-breaking: instead of sending families off to seek help, the support and services are brought to them. Action is swift and tightly co-ordinated. Westminster, Camden and Islington social services refer a proportion of their most vulnerable families to the court. That same day, the mother - and, very occasionally, the father too - meets the specialist court team and starts drawing up the programme they must follow if they are to keep - or win back - their child.

The team is one reason proceedings are so different to normal family courts. Employed by the NHS trust and Coram, they have backgrounds in social care, substance misuse, housing, health, education, domestic violence and mental health. These experts shine a spotlight into the parent's life, probing relentlessly into every corner. Depending on individual issues, the programme might demand residential detox, counselling or a stay at a parenting assessment centre. It could also require the mother to attend drug relapse prevention training, a parenting course or lessons in bringing families together.

The programme also links families with parent mentors; another unique and powerful weapon in the court's armoury. "Our parenting mentors have experienced substance misuse difficulties and have either lost, or been at serious risk of losing, their children too," said Crichton. "The difference they make to whether a parent chooses to stay or leave is often critical."

The pressure is too much for many. Extra pressure is applied during fortnightly visits to the court, with its power to take a child away - or bring a child back. "I tell them that this has to be the moment they want to turn their life around," said Crichton. "If it isn't, then this project is not for them because they're going to be worked so damn hard. They don't just need to detox. They need to properly confront all their problems and deal with them."

In the 17 months it has been up and running, the court has had only three graduates. Although it hopes for 10 more by the end of the year, including one mother who had previously lost six children to the care system but has bonded with her seventh, Crichton admits the figure might surprise some. "But if people expect a higher rate, they don't understand the extent of the problems we're dealing with," he said. "It takes a minimum of a year to help these parents and at every step there are triggers that might cause them to fall by the wayside."

Crichton, however, argues that the court's success is not a straightforward concept. Although it strives to keep parents and children together, sometimes the process results in a mother accepting that she is not fit to care for her child. That too, Crichton maintains, should be counted as a success story.

"When you get a mother who agrees to give up her child because she realises her problems are so deep that they can't be resolved in the time her child needs them to be, it's heart-rending," he said. "The last time it happened, I had a lump in my throat. The best outcome for the child is to be brought up by the birth parent, but if that's not possible, we need to get them into an alternative, permanent family as soon as possible.

"Because the intensity of the programme shows the flaws and cracks of the parent much more quickly than the usual court system, we identify those children much earlier. That's sad - but it's a success nonetheless.

"Also, if we can help a mother understand that she is unable to be a parent, she is less likely to keep having babies to replace the ones she feels have been 'stolen' from her by the court. That, too, is a massive achievement."

The agreement to let their child be adopted, however, is not always accompanied by such an epiphany. During the Observer's visit to the court, we saw Michelle agree to let her six-month-old baby be taken into permanent care. Ben had only recently been released into foster care from hospital, where he had spent the first five months of his life detoxing from the methadone and opiates his mother had continued using throughout her pregnancy.

Slumped silently in the courtroom, Michelle sullenly nodded her agreement when asked whether she would let the adoption process begin. Her bloodless skin and emaciated body said all that was needed about the choice she had made between her addiction and her baby.

"I hope you feel the contract you have had with the court has been helpful, despite the decision you have come to today," Kenneth Grant, the judge, said hopefully. For the first time, Michelle raised her lifeless eyes from the table in front of her and gazed at him in blank silence. After she left the court, he closed her file with a sigh.

"I really feel for that lady," he said. "She's got lots of problems and has had such a terrible childhood. She didn't yell or scream at us today but, in a way, I wish she had. It can be easier for me to bear that sort of reaction when a case goes this way, because it is a further indicator that the mother is emotionally incapable of effective parenting. But when she is so compliant, it's somehow more difficult and much sadder."

The empathy of Grant is in tune with the overall intimacy of the court. Held in a simple room with desks set in a horseshoe, two dozen people can crowd into it for early hearings, including court officials, the legal representatives of each parent and each child, and the local authority team.

As the hearings progress, however, the judge encourages the parent and social workers to appear unrepresented. "It's astounding how those parents will engage with us when lawyers are not present," said Crichton. "Initially inarticulate people become very eloquent and open about what help and support they need to make the necessary changes to their lives."

This is why Grant barely flinches when a young mother walks into court weeping, and freely admits she is struggling with the agony of drug withdrawal. "It's just so hard," she sobbed. "Half the time I think I don't deserve to be given this second chance. But the last time I lapsed my baby was in the bedroom next door and I still feel guilty about that, so I'm fighting it this time."

Such honesty is unheard of in most courts, but Grant welcomes it, congratulating her for holding out against temptation. After she left, he said: "In the usual family court, that mother would be left quietly sobbing in corner while everything was discussed between the legal representatives. Instead of that alienating, isolating experience, today she was able to be honest about her detox experience, and we could compliment her directly on the progress she has made. She will have got a lot out of today. It would have been a very hopeful, very positive experience for her."

Crichton is sensitive to the allegation that the court can end up forcing families apart. "A result of our work can be that parents split up," he admitted. "But I would never tell a woman she had to abandon her partner. Instead, I tell her that she has a choice. If her violent partner makes the home a dangerous environment, for example, then I have to tell her that being with her partner is not compatible with caring for her child. Her decision is her choice."

The court has just over a year and a half left to prove it should be permanently funded. Independent research undertaken by Brunel University is due this autumn. But both Crichton and Grant hope that further funding will emerge and that every borough will eventually have a family drug and alcohol court. "As night follows day, there will still be Baby P cases in 10 and 20 years," said Grant. "We can never invent the legislative framework that will stop parents killing their children. But if we can help those mothers who have it in them to care for their children safely, and identify those who are dangerous at an earlier stage, we will have achieved a great deal.

"That's why this court is so forward-looking and constructive. It's why there's a sense of optimism in what we're doing. It's why, frankly, we're so full of hope in what is otherwise a sea of misery."

We were so desperate to keep our family together'

When Lucy, 24, gave birth to a methadone-dependent daughter, a court ordered her to live with her mother. However, after facing domestic problems, she and her partner fled to Egypt with the baby. Last year, Lucy returned to Britain and entered the family drug and alcohol process. She is due to complete it on 27 July.

"I had a privileged upbringing; I went to expensive schools and a good university, but after my father died, my life started to go off the rails. By 20, I was a heroin addict.

"When I discovered I was pregnant, my partner and I were both on methadone withdrawal schemes and fully engaged with social services.

"The pregnancy was a surprise but we decided to keep the child. When Chloe was born methadone dependent, she had to stay in hospital for seven weeks detoxing. It was awful.

"After she was born, the courts said I had to live with my mother. Our little family moved in but my mother hated my partner and soon forced him to leave.

"We were desperate to keep our family together and so fled to Egypt with our daughter. I knew we wouldn't be able to come back to Britain without being arrested but it really felt like we had no other option. One year later, my partner died and I returned to the UK. I was arrested at the airport, but was very lucky; I was only cautioned with abduction.

"I've been back since December and have entered this court system. It has been amazing. I wish it had been in existence when I was going through my earlier troubles: my key worker knows me so well - I genuinely feel he wants the best for me and Chloe - there's no way he would have done what the other court did, by imposing conditions that set my family up for failure."

Children and care

• There are 60,000 children in care in England and 15,000 in Scotland.

• More than 23,000 children are taken into care in England every year, at an annual cost of up to £250,000 per child.

• Last year 2,400 children who had been taken from their parents were returned to them.

• Almost two-thirds of children are legally removed from their families without their parents' consent.

• A parent's substance misuse is a major factor in 60-70% of care proceedings. Some experts say the true proportion where it is an issue is as high as 90%.

• Social workers receive little or no training on substance misuse issues.

• Looked-after children are seven times more likely than other children to be expelled from school and twice as likely to be cautioned or convicted of a crime.

• In 2007 only 13% of children who had been taken from their parents achieved at least five GCSEs at grades A*-C, compared with 62% for all children.